


Perfectly Imperfect

by pansypxrkinson



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aloof Harry Potter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Holding Hands, Humor, Investigative Journalist Draco Malfoy, Kissing, M/M, Muggle Photography, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Patronuses, Pining Draco Malfoy, Romance, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Snarky Draco Malfoy, reading emotions, showing emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-03-22 23:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13775346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansypxrkinson/pseuds/pansypxrkinson
Summary: What is going on with Potter? Draco doesn’t know. He’s too busy worrying about Salazar and choking on Pansy’s cucumber sandwiches. Now Potter’s owl is out for blood and Blaise has to be stopped.All things considered, it’s hard being an investigative journalist and a crazy person at the same time.





	Perfectly Imperfect

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to R, N, and C respectively, for the beta, alpha, and title/summary help. You guys helped me so much <3

"Ow! What the-"

Draco sighs. He glares down at the offending article that had just smacked him in the face. No surprises there. As irony would dictate, it is yet another literal offending article in the Prophet. Well offensive to Draco at least.

* * *

_MALFOY BACK AT HOGWARTS_

_Daily Prophet sources can confirm that convicted Death Eater Draco Malfoy has returned to Hogwarts for his Eight Year.  
Naturally, there is one question on everyone's mind. What is to be said for the safety of our children? Most would agree we should not so freely educate those who in their turn use our knowledge against us, as was so clearly flaunted by Voldemort's demonic followers!_

_This simply cannot continue!_

_In fact sources from inside the Ministry claim that Draco Malfoy was one of You-Know-Who's most devoted followers. An extremely dangerous boy, who at one point possessed the allegiance of the Elder Wand itself and intended to use it to torture Harry Potter to death._

_We cannot let this megalomaniac roam the halls of..._

_More discussion by Lacey Abbington on page 5._

* * *

 

"Of fucking course..."

Blaise turns around from where he's talking to Daphne. "Jesus Draco, if looks could kill..." He smirks vindictively, but Draco thinks he can see an inch of pity hanging around the corners of Blaise's mouth. He hates it.

"So... what's it this time? Are you... the spawn of Voldemort himself? Grindelwald's second cousin twice removed?"

"Nope. Apparently I utilised the power of the Elder Wand intentionally and tried to murder Harry Potter," Draco picks at his buttered toast miserably. It's margarine. He hates margarine.

To his surprise, Pansy gives a bark of laughter. Evidently she's managed to surgically remove herself from Millicent's tonsils. She's always loved laughing at other people's misfortune, the bint. It's part of what Draco loves about her. Until it's directed at him.

"Draco darling, don't look so surprised. Honestly, I think you may well have tried it a few years ago... You can't blame them for being confused still." She waves her buttered knife around for emphasis.

"But." She smirks evilly. "It's fair to say that nowadays your feelings have certainly changed..."

This is it. This is where Draco dies. He can see them all watching him like tigers looking at a particularly tasty snack. They all have the same sly little smile on their faces. Reminding Draco that they have the ability to destroy his already sullied reputation in one fell swoop. He would be terrified if he didn't know that Slytherins look out for their own. Regardless, they love to flaunt their power. It's merely Slytherin nature... To tease him. To remind him that he needs them. And to remind him that Pansy couldn't keep her fucking mouth shut if her life depended on it.

"Shut up, Pansy. At least I didn't attempt to offer up Potty à la carte to the Dark Lord".

Pansy's face goes a deep plum colour. It almost complements her dark hair. She says nothing but Draco can practically see her mind whirling. Next to him Blaise is pissing himself laughing. Pans rarely gets angry. But she'll get even. He wonders if he's gone too far. He probably has. But so has she. So he reasons that it's fine.  
Deep down he knows that they know he's projecting.

He never calls Potter that old crude nickname anymore. He doesn't like the way it tastes in his mouth. All spoilt and sickly, like expensive chocolate and soured milk. He likes to think that he's grown up. He also has to admit that he maybe even admires Potter a little bit, (and not just his horribly attractive face and stupid green eyes). That is something he'll never tell Pansy or the others, at least.

He also steps on Blaise foot. Hard.

"Hey!"

"The fuck, Draco? Don't blame me! If anything, blame that bloody owl! This isn't even your mail... Merlin knows, none of us take the Prophet!"

Draco growls. Oh yes. He looks up at Adonis. Harry Potter's tawny owl. He's sitting on Potter's shoulder like an Arabian prince, staring right at Draco with a kind of vindictive joy. And if anyone tells Draco that owls cannot express vindictive joy, then they're wrong and they've obviously never met Adonis because he swears to Merlin that bird is a complete sadist.

Recently, he has delighted in nobly informing Draco of everything that is being written about him in The Prophet. Draco would suspect Potter had instructed him to do so but he doesn't think even he's that cruel. Mostly he just stares at Draco like he's something particularly contagious.

Also the Demon bird is too suspicious. It looks at Draco funny.

Draco wonders where Potter got him from. Most likely he rescued it from the ninth circle of Hell. After all, Potter seems to love saving things ever so much. Never Slytherins though. Not now, when they are being humiliated daily. Part of him knows it's not Potter's business. Would Potter expect him to do the same? Unlikely. It still gets to him though. Seeing Potter's cold dismissal instead of his anger is almost worse.  
Before he knows it, he's on his feet.

"Er. Potter." He gets up just in time to witness Blaise's breathed 'Ohh no'. Draco accidently steps on his other foot. Again.

He walks over to Potter and his stupid owl.

"Hi. Potter..."

"Yes... Malfoy," Potter sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Like Draco's some kind of peasant begging him for food. He'd like to note that Potter is the peasant. His hair looks a disgrace, like Adonis has been nesting in it. And not the Greek god, but the owl. Otherwise that would be hot. Potter's hair is a mess.

Not hot at all.

It's also unbelievably hot. Recently, Potter has been nursing a beautifully pissed off look whenever Draco's around. Draco supposes there are two sides to this. So he's trying to be positive.

Con. Potter hates the sight of him so much that one wisp of his hair is enough to send him into what can only be described at a human's natural reaction to a flobberworm. At this point, it is a competition between who hates Draco Malfoy more; Potter, his vindictive little pigeon or The Prophet.

Pro. Potter's pissed off look does things to Draco's circulatory system. Draco would know. He has been an expert in this particular field for many years. That is the only explanation as to why Draco suddenly loses the ability to speak and function as a human being when Harry Potter glares at him. His lips thin and his eyes narrow and darken but they're still so green and Draco thinks he can see little bolts of lightning sparking within them in what Draco likes to call the 'Try Anything And I'll Break Your Fucking Spine' look.

So yes. Maybe Draco shouldn't have acted like the class A arsehole, bully and general misguided fool that he had all throughout Potter's school years. But that was almost six months ago now. Draco doesn't like to hold grudges. Well...okay perhaps he does. Or did. But Potter the Saviour bloody well shouldn't! Plus Draco did sort of save his life so it's swings and roundabouts, really...

All in all it's bittersweet. Perhaps it's for the best that Potter hates him. Draco's inclined to think that if Potter deigned to look at him the way he used to look at Girl Weasley... Well it might just finish him off. Or worse he'd descend into depths of lovesick fool that no Wizard or Witch on Earth should bear witness to.

"...Malfoy?" He's still staring.

"Yes. My apologies. I believe this is yours..."

He drops the newspaper in front of him. It falls onto Potter's bread and jam, staining the image of Draco raspberry red. Newspaper Draco looks as dismayed as Draco feels. He fucking hates jam.

Potter sighs, as they both try to pretend that it's not Draco on the front page, a literal smear (of jam) on his name. It's so unbelievably awkward. Draco misses the fire Potter used to inspire in him.

It used to feel like flying. Flying without protective charms. The wind biting into Draco's face. Turning his lips blue... As they'd fall into one another. He remembers how he'd feel so alive. How he wished he could trace the lines of Potter's spitting mouth. The little freckle just above his top lip, as they screamed at one another. Both so full of anger, yes. But full of something so passionate and raw. Anger is intimate. It is a kiss in the pouring rain. An admission of weakness in a way. Like sinking into ice cold water and feeling your whole body freeze but not caring a jot because you know you're on fire.

Now it's just uncomfortable.

Draco glares at Adonis. Because he's an arsehole. And Potter looks at him like he's lost his mind. He probably has. He could have sworn he saw the beast wink at him.

"...Right Malfoy. Uh thanks?" He says. In that voice that clearly states the conversation is over, and that Draco is a crazy person who can go away now please. And so Draco does the crazy person walk back to the Slytherin table and tries not to look Blaise in the eye. He eats his shitty margarine toast. It tastes of shame.

Draco decides that something needs to change.

* * *

 

"Dracooo," Pansy's voice is loud and grates like nails on a chalkboard. He knows she's sulking and to be honest, he doesn't entirely blame her.

"Draco... for fuck's sake you heathen. There's blueberry pancakes. Blueberry. Pancakes. Darling, I'm so hungry I could collapse." Pansy's sharp pink nails dig into his arm. Subtle but deadly. He shivers. She's always miserable when she doesn't eat on time.

"Why in Merlin's name are we standing up here like fools, when I could be gorging myself on various breakfast foods? Everyone's staring at us. You know, I'm starting to think this wasn't such a good idea."

"Look Pans! Potter's got french toast... Just drenched in b-"

"Arghhh!"

Draco doesn't know who hits Blaise first, but he's glad he and Pans can agree on something for once. Draco would feel bad, but Blaise is so often and so colourfully a complete dick that he's given up on dignity.

Truth be told, Draco's starting to agree with her. There's a draft where he, Pansy and Blaise are standing, and the pancakes do sound so good right about now.  
Millicent and Theo are (rather bravely, in his opinion) wandering about the Hall, handing out the first edition of the paper they have collectively produced. It has been their pride and joy over the last few weeks, and Draco is secretly proud that he had been the one to instigate it all in the first place. It almost feels like the old days, when they would band together with one objective in mind; to irritate Potter.  
Draco has to admit it was some of their best work. Those 'Potter Stinks' badges required some pretty advanced charm work, and to this day, Draco can still recite Weasley is our King from memory. Pans always did have a positively evil way with words.

Still he supposes what they're doing right now is not much different. Except, instead of sullying Potter's name (obviously an insurmountable feat at this point, and probably not the smartest idea now that the Prophet wants to Avada Kedavra the whole of Slytherin house), they're trying to defend their own.  
Draco had finally cracked after the whole Potter business a few weeks ago. He'd come back from dinner early that evening to find Pansy crying in the empty common room. Draco didn't think he'd ever seen her truly cry before.  
She'd simply handed him the newspaper. The headline had read 5 Reasons Why Pig-faced Parkinson Needs a Cosmeti-Wizard.

When the others had arrived, Millicent was just about ready to storm down to the Daily Prophet Office herself and start actually throwing punches. Draco had called a meeting. He knew it was futile to try and prevent The Prophet from writing whatever they wanted. After all, there was not a single word from Potter and his ever loyal friends about the paper. He knows they read it, even though they must see it's rubbish. He knows they are completely happy to continue the illusion of the moral high ground as they witness what is essentially wide scale is bullying. It makes Draco furious, but he knows he no longer has any power.  
After all, had they not done the same to the Potter and rest of them?

So he'd proposed that they create their own paper. They'd quickly come up with a name; _Salazar_. It would be their own way to share their side of the story, and if no one was interested then fuck them. In her fury, Millicent had been the first to volunteer, with Pansy's reluctant assistance. Her first issue had been about aspects of the War from a Slytherin perspective, and even Draco had to admit that it was incredibly insightful, reflecting many of the ways in which he'd felt torn between his family and his own morality. He hated to think about the past though, and so had gladly passed that duty off onto the girls.

Naturally, Draco had assigned himself the role of investigative journalist. He'd always loved gossip. Well... at least the small relatively harmless type.  
And spying on people. Also the small harmless kind.

Even Draco had to admit he'd taken it too far in his younger years at Hogwarts, though. This was his way of righting his wrongs if you will. He'll tackle the small, humourous inquiries that get the greatest number of submissions. Of course, for the time being he'd chosen his own topic. He's quite proud of his article on Neville Longbottom: Animagus in Disguise?

To his credit, Longbottom had actually been quite sporting about it. After all, Draco's not sure what he would've done if someone had told him, 'No, he wasn't following him to the gent's because he was a weird stalker, or anything like that... He was actually just curious whether he was a bear. No, don't be ridiculous, Longbottom, of course, he meant the animal'. After some (extensive) clarification, he'd even provided an interview for Draco, so all in all, looking like he'd lost his sanity was a worthy sacrifice for an interview with a War hero, albeit a comical one.

After that it had escalated beyond Draco's sleuthing skills, and a simple column sharing their side of the story. Blaise and Theo had decided to set up their own advice column. This was rather hysterical in Draco's opinion as Blaise is the last person who should be giving anyone advice, but once he'd read over their first draft, he had to admit the combination of humour from Blaise and the more serious advice from Theo had been a great blend. Despite the fact that he'd had to suffer Blaise calling himself Agony Uncle for the last two weeks, just to piss him off.

Once she'd found out what they were doing, even Daphne seemed pretty keen to add her own fashion section. Draco was skeptical at first, but if it had any chance of gaining them a wider audience then they were happy to give it a try.  
So there they all stood in the corner of the Great Hall. Hungry, exhausted and a little embarrassed. All in the name of journalism. Or justice. Whatever.  
He catches Neville's eye and gives him a tentative smile back. It's almost good enough to drown out the sickly jolt in his stomach as he stares at Potter. He's once again ignoring the world, his head stuck in the goddamn Prophet still.

Almost.

Draco just shakes it off and hands some leaflets to Daphne as she finally decides to grace them with her presence. This works for precisely 10 seconds before Draco leans over to whisper to Pansy.

"I mean... Really, who does he think he is? Parading around with that hellbird on his shoulder all the time. Calling his own owl Adonis, I mean who does that? Like he thinks himself some kind of sex god or something?" Pansy giggles at this.

"Is it Freudian? Pans... I think it's Freudian. Jot that one down. Hmm perhaps not. He'd probably sue us!"

"Wow, Darling, someone's prickly today. How you can be filled with such hate and such lust for the same person... You really are a marvel!"

"Shut up." He says, resigned. He doesn't dare deny it. That would be an even greater admission of weakness, and she knows it.

He really hates Pansy sometimes.

* * *

 

Despite Pansy's constant teasing, the week that follows is one of the best Draco's had since before the War. Adonis hasn't dropped round any more papers, and truthfully, Draco's been too preoccupied to care. Writing for _Salazar_ seems to be going even better than expected. Naturally, they were not expecting to change many minds. They were writing purely for themselves. Regardless, it was refreshing to see how the atmosphere had changed so quickly both within their own common room, and even outside of it.

Draco certainly wasn't expecting to walk into Transfiguration one afternoon and be congratulated by McGonagall herself, for 'educating his fellow students'. It made him glow rather embarrassingly. They'd even had some requests in for Draco to investigate. In fact, he suspects that Longbottom may have had something to do with it, which he supposes they should all be grateful for.  
Unfortunately, a huge portion of the requests he's received involve Potter, and he's strong enough to admit that he's not quite recovered from their last encounter.  
Potter, it seems, is in a permanently awful mood recently. In parts this is a relief. He's actually quite glad to know that at least it's not just him who's faced Potter's wrath. He thinks it may actually be the damn bird influencing Potter's mood. He's as sour as him these days. Perhaps it's cursed? Draco wouldn't be surprised in the slightest.

That may be something to investigate, if he ever grows a spine enough to speak to Potter like a normal human being. He knows that soon he's just going to have to bite the bullet though. No use living in fear. He's had enough of that.

He sighs and looks up at Slughorn. Apparently, they're recapping Amortentia. Perfect. That's just what he needs today. Lovesick fools. He's had enough of them for one day. A lot of the requests he's been getting recently feature inquiries as to Potter's romantic conquests. But he's not even going to bother with them. That seems to cross the line from harmless gossip to a serious invasion of privacy, and he likes to think himself better than the Prophet in some ways. That's the whole reason he started this thing after all. Plus Potter might kill him.

Still he's going to need to start tackling a new story soon...

Draco's in between slicing the thorns off of his roses when Granger and Neville walk up to him. It's such a strange sight that he nearly slices his finger.

"Can I help you both?" Draco has to fight to keep the bite of sarcasm out of his voice. Not out of any malice, but just because it's what he's used to. He knows they're all trying to fight bad habits.

"We're really impressed with what you've been doing with _Salazar_ , Draco! There's so much hatred that's come out of the War. We really appreciate you trying to do something good to educate society and bring people together". There's that word again... Draco's dumbfounded at Granger's words.

"It's...it's. Yeah. We just wanted to share our thoughts. To do some good for once."

"I was wondering... Well you've already interviewed Neville but I'd be thrilled to meet with you, and give an interview of my own. We could always use more interhouse cooperation!"

"That would be great. But you should speak to Pans and Millicent. They're the ones you should be thanking. They write the columns on the War. I'm sure they'd want to talk to you." He nods over at them, and watches as Granger walks over towards Pans and Millicent, a woman on a mission. Good luck to them, he thinks. Secretly he's pleased.

Neville looks back at him. "Well I just wanted to say that your article was hilarious. You should speak to Harry. He's been a miserable bugger recently. Give him something to smile about".

Now it's Draco's turn to look at Longbottom like he's a crazy person, "Thanks. But I think he'd probably get his stupid bird to bite my fingers off."

"He's having a rough time of it, but he's not as intimidating as you think." Draco bristles at that. He's not intimidated by Potter.

Draco gives him a look as if to say so.

"Okay. Just a thought but... Consider it. I think we could all do to move on from the past. You've actually got more in common than you think."

Draco sighs and continues to chop away at his roses. When he pricks his thumb on a thorn, he merely rolls his eyes and vanishes the wound.

As Draco enters the common room at midnight to find Pansy, Millicent and Hermione Granger, all sat in deep conversation, quills poised in the air and speaking in hushed whispers, he says nothing. However, he does pinch himself before he settles down to sleep.

If he's dreaming, it's a good one.

* * *

 

The next day Draco wakes up with a spring in his step. It's Saturday today, so he's free of classes. He's been looking forward to a brisk walk around the grounds all week, having been primarily cooped up in the library studying, or holed up in the common room writing his new piece for _Salazar_.  
After much consideration he decided to write his next piece about Potter's owl, if only to exercise his own form of twisted revenge on Adonis. He's still pissed about the many accidental deliveries. Okay so technically his writing about Harry Potter's hellbird being startlingly sentient and more than a little bit sinister could be classed as slander, but he's hoping for the best. After all, in Draco's experience, the greatest truths are embedded within satire.  
Also it's a bloody bird. It'll get over it.

He decides to forget the damn thing and throws on his coat. It's his warmest one, a gift from Mother for his 19th birthday. It's pure wool and a lovely sandy colour. It's a beautiful day, even if it's cold. The sun shines through the greenery casting a glow over the entire expanse of forest. The grass is frosted with dew and crunches pleasantly underfoot. Just him and his thoughts. He thinks he'll take some pictures of the lake. Perhaps he'll write to M-

"Oi!"

"Dracooo!"

He continues walking. He knows that set of voices. Perhaps if he keeps walking, they'll ignore him. Yes. That's what he'll do. He quickens his steps...

Draco feels a sudden sting on his hand. He stops dead. Did she really just...?

"Fuck's sake." He turns and starts walking back the way he came. Will he ever get a moment's peace?

"Milly, was that entirely necessary?"

"Sorry, you baby! You were ignoring us."

"Yeah, I wonder why. Besides..." He moves on swiftly, one stinging hex is more than enough, thank you. He's got delicate skin. "Aren't you two supposed to be having your disgusting monthly romance-fest? I should think you'd want some privacy."  
For once, he adds silently.

Pansy's eyes narrow, as if she knows what he's thinking. Damn she knows him too well by now.

"Well. Actually we'd like you to join u-

"No, thank yo-"

"NOT like that, you moron! We're just having a picnic and want you to join us". Draco really doesn't trust the smirk on Millicent’s lips.

"It's the least we can do after all you've done recently, Draco! Slytherin actually feels like a house again. Please?"

Draco sighs. He seems to be doing that a lot recently. Curse Pansy and her stroking his ego.

"Fine, fine. As long as there's chocolate,"

"Ohh plenty! And sandwiches. Don't forget the treacle t-" Pansy elbows her.

Draco goes to sit down and tries to ignore the way his friends appear to have lost their minds. That makes three of them. At least he'll have some company at 'Mungo's.

He's just tucking into some cucumber sandwiches when he feels a prickle on his neck.

"You're already here! Perfect. Oh hello Draco! We've also brought sandwiches."

If anyone were to ask Draco what happened next he would almost certainly lie. Choking on a cucumber sandwich in the presence of Harry Potter was not on Draco's list of Things He Was Hoping To Do With His Day.  
Nevertheless, it was happening. His eyes are watering terribly and Pansy's pounding him on the back ferociously even though he's not even choking anymore, and she's practically assaulting him now. Weasley is desperately trying not to explode from laughter; he's never seen a face so red. Potter...

Potter looks stunned. In fact, if he were not so humiliated, it would almost be refreshing to see the expression on his face. He was getting sick of his beautifully pissed off look, even if pretty much every expression looked good on Potter. He'd finally done it. Had finally stunned Harry Potter.

"Stop! I-I'm fine," He attempts, although he sounds more like Voldemort at the moment. Oh Merlin. He's going to absolutely murder them...

"A-anyway... Sit down!" Millicent says. Like he hasn't just been publically humiliated.

Be that as it may, Potter and crew sit down anyway. Draco wonders if they've been coerced or mislead as well. Surely, Weasley and Potter don't want to spend time with the likes of him. Then again, he doubts Granger is as cruel as Pansy.  
Draco knew he'd pay for the Potter comment he made about her, whether she deserved it or not. Potter sits down next to him. Some of the colour is beginning to return to his face once again. He doesn't look over at Draco, and this time he's thankful. The conversation has run dry after all that action. Surprisingly, it's Weasley who breaks the silence.

"What is that thing, Malfoy?"

Draco looks down at the muggle camera hanging around his neck. But before he can reply, Potter speaks.  
"-That's Andromeda's."

"Yes. She uh, gave it to Mother, who lent it to me to take pictures of the grounds. She...she likes to know what I'm doing these days. And she loves nature."

"What is it, though?" Weasley asks again.

"It's an old muggle camera. But I think it's quite cool. It may not be able to produce moving images, but it can produce one as soon as it's taken." He points to the slot at the bottom of the camera.

"Oh! They can be charmed to move though can't they?" Granger's suddenly eyeing the camera with determination. Potter and Weasley seem to glance at one another in trepidation. Presumably this sort of thing happens a lot, for Potter changes the subject quickly.

"So Malfoy, what've you been doing recently?" It looks as if the question's causing him physical pain. Draco's not surprised. It's one of the most uninspired questions ever. It's also the worst possible thing he could've said.

"Actually Harry. Draco's newest article for _Salazar_ is about you..." Ohh he's going to make Pansy pay.

"Really?" Potter gives him a look that is hard to read. He can't even tell if he's furious or amused.

"Um. yes?" It comes out like a question. "I'm the investigative journalist. But it's just silly, you know. I interviewed Longbottom last week actually."

Potter says nothing. In fact he seems to bristle a little at that. Draco continues talking, in an attempt to fill the silence. This is hindsight, was a big mistake.

"I...I should take your picture, Potter. Obviously you'll be front page news..."

Silence.

"No."

More silence.

"Oh. Nevermind."  
Draco honestly wants to drop dead.  
As if his life couldn't get any worse. He's going to kill Pansy, and he's going to kill Millicent and Granger and damned Longbottom for giving him the blind idiocy to say something, anything to Potter at all. And then finally himself. And Potter. Potter who's a complete dick. Even Weasley looks embarrassed for him. Weasley! Merlin...

He slowly lowers his camera, and puts it away in his bag for good measure. It's probably best for everyone. Otherwise he's going to get up and throw it in the stupid lake. When he looks up though, Potter's fucking smiling at him. And Draco's first thought is, what a sadistic bastard, but it gets drowned out because fuck.

In all the years he's known him, Potter has certainly never looked at him like that before. Like he's staring at the moon. So genuine, his smile extends right up to the crinkles in his eyes, but it's also so gentle, and Draco thinks that if he was choking before, it's nothing to how he's feeling now. He can feel Potter's stare pierce right through him. Can feel the way his own face must now be slack jawed and brilliant red. Although that same freckle on his upper lip confirms that it's the same Potter who's always glared at him, punched him, and laughed at him, it still looks so strange just sitting there above a smile so unlike he's ever seen before.

So okay, Draco was wrong. Potter's perfectly within his right to think himself a sex god, because it's bloody true and Draco needs to stop fooling himself. He also needs to grab Pansy again, so she can perform the Heimlich manoeuvre on him, because Potter's no mere cucumber sandwich, he's a whole bloody picnic.

Potter, for his part, just carries on oblivious. Like Draco's whole world didn't just tilt on its axis over a stupid, stupid smile from stupid Potter. He can feel it. Feel himself descending into depths of lovesick fool that he told himself he'd never stoop to. Oh, how he misses his ignorance. How blissful it was. Destroyed in one fell swoop by Pansy's cucumber sandwiches.

Potter simply nods and says,  
"Thank you."

Draco wants to be shocked at the audacity. One doesn't just whip out the Sex Smile and continue on, but then it's Potter so he supposes he shouldn't be surprised for the lack of context. Knowing Potter, he probably doesn't even know what he's doing to mere mortals like the rest of them. Draco looks around, hoping for some solidarity against the assault.  
Shockingly, no one else even seems to have even noticed the Potter Smile. So it must just be him. Just him who's lost his mind. Great.

Draco sulks for the rest of the picnic. He takes the last slice of treacle tart when he notices how much Potter likes it, and he doesn't feel one ounce of remorse.

* * *

 

When Draco was younger, he'd always wondered if there was something wrong with him. Some reason as to why Potter had so vehemently rejected him all those years ago. He'd even asked his father one day. He'd reassured him that there was nothing wrong with Draco. In fact if Potter couldn't see how wonderful Draco was then that was his loss. Naturally, Draco had believed him. But this did nothing to quell the little seed of doubt inside him that was searching and searching for this reason. This thing that he could blame it all on. Some kind of fatal flaw. Was he too loud for Potter? Did he part his hair wrong? Was it his eye colour? Perhaps Potter simply hated grey.

It seems so ridiculous now. He was still so blind as to his own bratty behaviour and couldn't see how any of his actions could have turned Potter away. After all, this was how he'd always been allowed to be. Mother and Father had rewarded him for his false superiority. For his imperiousness. How could it be wrong? For the first two years of his schooling he drove his poor Father up the wall with questions of Potter this, and Potter that. Constantly, twitching the thread, until it completely untangled. The only person who'd ever denied him. It drove him crazy. But through it all, Draco thinks that now he may have been onto something all those years ago.

He does have something very, very wrong with him after all.

His fatal flaw is evidently that he's quite insane. Well, at least a little bit. That is of course, the only logical explanation as to why Draco's now running towards Potter like a bat out of hell. Like he's in danger and Draco is some kind of knight in shining armour or something. What kind of protection is Draco going to provide Potter with! He's got the courage of Fang most days.

Sadly, this is not the first time this month that Draco has shown his decline from decently functioning member of society to... whatever he is now. Babbling fool, possibly?  
Just seeing Potter is enough to spark a disagreement between his brain and mouth, and it's starting to become a very serious issue.  
Just yesterday at dinner he'd made eye contact with Potter and blurted out the first thing that came into his head. Unfortunately, that first thing was "pass the salt, Potter." This would all be well and good, if Potter was actually sitting with them and not three tables away.

He's not sure what was more embarrassing, Potter staring at him evidently confused as Draco attempted to communicate 'forget it' from three tables away via lip reading, or that Pansy heard the whole thing. He's already mad enough at her over the whole picnic debacle without her laughing at him so much she had to actually excuse herself from the table. What's worse? Not a Potter Smile in sight. Not even a beautifully pissed off frown, and whilst puzzled Potter is also an honourable mention, it's not quite what Draco was going for.  
Draco blames Adonis. He could swear the damn thing was staring into his very soul. It had thrown him off!

The same luck seemed to follow Draco the following Tuesday in Charms. Where it seemed that fate (or perhaps just Flitwick) would dictate that he and Potter work together. Needless to say, it was a terrible lesson. He'd tried to be charming, had tried to engage Potter in conversation about _Salazar_ , or anything at all. But Potter it seemed, could not be less interested in anything he had to say. He had even asked Potter if he wouldn't mind holding his toad for him whilst he went to fetch another piece of parchment. He'd simply nodded and held out his hands. Potter's lips had not even twitched.

Now, after all he'd learnt, Draco, fool that he was still wouldn't give up. It bothered him a great deal that he didn't exactly know where he stood with him. Potter seemed so... off with him recently, yet had the nerve to look at Draco like that the other day, and mess with his head. Perhaps Potter was doing it deliberately or something? Maybe he really did instruct his owl to send Draco the Prophet? Draco didn't really know why he would though, he spoke at his trial after all. Why go through all that trouble to save Draco if he really did despise him that much? He was going to figure it out if it killed him. Or at least seriously maimed him.

Besides a huge part of him really did want to make it up with Potter, and at least achieve Longbottom levels of friendly acquaintance with him. He knew deep down he was foolish to expect more than that. Potter obviously wasn't interested, regardless of the smile. That didn't stop Draco from privately admiring him though.

When he finally catches up to Potter, he realises he's not sure what he even wants to say. So he says the first thing that pops into his head. Again. He seems to be reaching critical levels of acting before thinking. Gryffindor levels. Ugh.

"Hey…wait, Potter."

"Malfoy."

"Er... May I accompany you to the library?"  
Merlin.  
Adonis, who’s once again in his throne atop Potter’s shoulder seems to think this comment is hilarious, for he hoots derisively at him. He just knows it... Draco glares it into submission until it leaps off of Potter’s shoulder, fluttering its gargantuan orange wings at him viciously.  
He thinks it just gave him the bird equivalent of a middle finger.

Potter’s still staring at him. "May...may...you... What? What are you playing at Malfoy? I'm not even going to the library!"

"Uh... Do you want to? I am." Well no going back now. He clears his throat.

"Do you know what it's like writing for _Salazar_ , Potter? You publish one little, major, extremely confidential secret and suddenly everyone wants your head on a platter. You have to protect me, Potter. It's simply a matter of public duty and um. Justice. And we all know how much you value public duty. The truth must be protected, and I am the embodiment of truth!"

"And uh... Have you? Leaked any extremely confidential secrets?"

"Well. Not yet. But I might. The principle still stands."

Potter sighs, and continues walking. He says nothing however, when Draco falls into step beside him, or even as he makes a right turn down the corridor to the library.

They walk in silence until they reach the doors. Draco finds a table and plonks down awkwardly in his seat, unsure of what the fuck he's doing, but doing it anyway. Potter follows suit, and if Draco didn't know better he'd swear that Potter's cheeks were a little red.  
It gives him confidence, even if it is a trick of the light.

"You've got your books? Can I share? Wait- hold on...I thought you weren't going to the library?"

"Er, actually I've just come from the library. Um I was walking back because I left my quill. But it's okay, I still have more work to do actually." Draco feels a little reassured that even Potter, saviour of the world is struggling under the pressure of N.E.WTs.  
Draco tries desperately to gloss over the fact that he has not a book in sight. If Potter notices he doesn't say anything.

"So, have you finished the potions homework? Want to work on that?" At this, Potter's face seems to sour a little.

"Merlin, Potter I know it's not your best subject but surely you want to pass the N.E.W.T?"

"No, no. It's not that. It's just we're doing Amortentia again..."

"Yeah...?" He doesn't seem to be following Potter's train of thought.

"Well. I suppose being an investigative journalist and everything, you'll know I broke up with Ginny a few months ago. It's just y'know love and stuff... Not my favourite topic at the moment. I'm trying to move on from it all,"

"Oh. Actually I didn't. I'm sorry, Potter."

"Nah. I mean it's fine. It was a mutual thing. Still, I feel like a right dick. It just didn't feel right anymore. For the both of us.”

"Oh." Draco doesn't really know what to say to this. Or why Potter's suddenly telling him of all people, but by the looks of it, it doesn't appear like Potter knows either.

He looks downright miserable, and Draco's found one Potter expression that he decidedly doesn't like.

Potter drags his hand through his hair roughly. Draco's not really sure how to approach this Potter. Lately, it appears he's been changing quicker than the setting sun.

"Did- uh. Did you know... Did it feel right, with Pansy?”

"I beg your pardon, Potter?"

"Shit. Sorry I didn't mean to pry."

"Pry into what?" He can't really think...

"You and Pansy. Does it feel right that you're together? Sorry I'm probably overstepping h-"

"Argh, Merlin! Stop I beg of you. I could never..."

"But...you two are always-" He makes a weird gesture which can be interpreted in a number of ways. None of them are pleasant.

"Gah! Pansy is dating Millicent! We are just friends, Potter, I can assure you that. Neither of us can provide what the other is looking for. Plus the girl's a living nightmare. Don't get me wrong Potter, I love her, but she's evil. Completely evil. I can't believe you t-"

"Yes, yes alright." Gosh, even Potter's a dick... laughing at Draco's horror. There is a lightness about his expression though. He’s likely cheered by Draco's misfortune. Nothing new there.

He continues thoughtfully, "Millicent? I wouldn't of thought..."

"My, my, Potter. I didn't think even you were that oblivious. They aren't exactly subtle. Nonetheless, if you're looking for relationship advice, I'm afraid I can't help. Theo, and God forbid, Blaise, are your port of call. They actually run the whole advice column section after all."

"Okay." Potter sighs, looking like approaching Theo and Blaise for advice is the last thing he wants to do. He looks like he wants to continue, but then shakes his head a little.

Changing the subject here is likely the best course of action. Talking about girls with Potter is precisely the stab in gut he doesn't need at the moment.

"Let's start Defence instead then!" He grabs the thick book from Potter's grip and flips the pages until he reaches Animagi. He thinks of his article again and smiles. The he remembers how utterly pants he is at Defence, and frowns. Nice one, Draco. Way to illustrate your incompetence. Potter must have noticed something in his expression for he asks if he's-

"Alright?"

"Yeah, fine. Can I borrow your quill?"

"Sure." Potter absentmindedly hands him the one he's been nervously chewing on.

"Um. Potter you barbarian, that one's been in your mouth.... I didn't mean...well, your quill. Any is really fine."

"Oh." If Potter wasn't blushing before he's sure he is now. He roots around in his bag for a second and hands over a smooth green quill. His fingers brush Draco's for a second as he does so, and Draco tells himself to get a bloody grip. He takes it silently.

They work in silence until the sun is beginning to set. It casts rays that fall in shapes over Potter's face. The library is quiet today, and the silence is comfortable and spacious. It's Draco who finally breaks it.  
"You know Potter, there's been a lot of gossip surrounding you recently..." He trails off, half teasing.

"Oh?" Potter still looks bored.

"Yeah," He leans in closer, in a mock whisper, "Potter, what's your animagus?"

"What?" He coughs.

"Oh come on. You can tell me. Personally, I think it's a lion. Cliche, I know but you are so disgustingly Gryffindor." Draco promptly ignores the voice in his head that whispers, 'hypocrite'.

"Yes, I'm sure I can trust the investigative journalist," He raises an eyebrow. "Besides, I know that no one really seems to care about the truth anymore, but I'm not an animagus!"

"Worth a try." Draco shrugs. "These papers won't write themselves after all. Well I suppose-"

"My dad was an animagus." Potter suddenly blurts out.

"Oh."

Draco doesn't really know what to do with this information to be honest. He's quite impressed at that, and flattered that Potter would trust him enough to confide something so meaningful to him; but he has this terrible look on his face all of a sudden. Like he's in pain and so alive at the same time. His eyes are shining even more than usual, glassy and so full of something that he's never seen before.  
It almost feels a little wrong that he should be here listening to this. Almost like he's stumbled into the wrong portrait, and it shouldn't be him sitting here with Potter, but Weasley or Granger instead. He doesn't think Potter has ever mentioned his parents in front of Draco before.

Before Draco can think of something else to say he continues.

"He was a stag. Like his patronus. He and his friends got into a lot of trouble thanks to their animagus forms. I think it would be amazing. Perfect for investigative journalism, actually. I wonder if my animagus would be a stag. My patronus is. Although, I don't know if it's changing recently... I feel like maybe it doesn't fit me as well anymore."  
Ah, maybe this is why Potter’s been so sullen recently. Draco doesn’t blame him for feeling lost after all they’ve suffered through. He thinks maybe he owes Potter some of that same honesty.

"At least you have one, Potter. I never learnt, actually." He coughs. "I'm uh, actually pretty rubbish at Defence, as you can probably assume. I doubt there's hope for my amazing transformation into an eagle just yet either. Or ever." Draco thinks he should feel shame at admitting this, but for some reason it doesn’t come. Nevertheless, he continues on. He doesn’t want to dwell on his weaknesses.  
"Anyway, that'd make a good article. We could write an article about famous mischief makers, and feature them. I'm sure they would've liked that."

At this, Potter seems to freeze, and once again, Draco can't read the expression that lingers on his face. A thrill of panic hits him suddenly, like a rush of cold water. How could he be so stupid?  
He knew how Potter felt about Draco prying into his life. Just look at how he'd reacted when Draco had offered to snap his picture before; and now he was postulating writing an article featuring Potter's dead parents. He should never have opened his mouth. Merlin, Potter's never going to confide in him again. He's still looking at him with the same expression.  
There's an unreadable something trapped in his eyes.

He decides to suck it up, before he makes things worse, "I'm sorry, Potter that was-"

"No, no." Potter cuts him off, and to Draco's bewilderment, he smiles slowly. Nervously. It's sweet like a breath of cool air in the darkness. Like the lake he often visits, when he feels truly at home, and feels the gentle licks of flower petals as they brush his open palms by the river bed.  
He's lost in Potter's expression with no Pansy to come to save him. Merlin he's well and truly fucked.

"Yeah, I think they would have," Potter continues. He breaks eye contact suddenly, "You know, Sirius and my Dad...I think it's such a shame they didn't get recognition. I don't mean like large grandiose acts of heroism, or commendation for their efforts in the War. I know they had that in the end; but they also had this quiet sort of bravery. They learnt to become animagi just to support Remus with his condition, and my Mum, she was always so kind and quietly strong. I think that's something I'd like to work on. I think what you're doing with _Salazar_ is similar," He puts his quill down.

"I know the bullshit they write in the Prophet. I was hoping that after the War, something would change, but I was wrong. They've just changed who they're targeting. I was an idiot. I should've done something to help you all. I was so blind, I guess I wanted them to be right. It's easier now, to hate those that remain, than to remember those who're really to blame. I know you hate talking about the War. Sorry, I just...I wanted to say that to you, especially. When I see Pansy and the others I'll tell them too."

"...Talk about the War? Potter, I can barely think about it." He says quietly. "I'm sure you feel the same. But um, thank you. Truly..."

"Just one question though..." Draco asks.

"Are you going to ask for another picture?" Potter's bottom lip is twitching into a smile, and so thinks it's okay when he replies,

"Are you going to give me one? I promise I won't share it."

"Absolutely not."

"Okay." He says, and this time he's smiling. "I was actually going to ask why on Earth your bird hates me?"

"He, he...doesn't hate you."

"Oh, sure. That's why he's been dropping The Prophet into my morning cornflakes for the past month..."

Potter looks sheepish. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Well. I suppose he can get a little jealous..."

"Jealous of what?" Draco prompts.

"He...he...Do you know, I’m not sure myself actually. I don’t know what wrong with him when you’re around. I think he quite enjoys being the only pompous git around. He probably feels threatened by you, Malfoy,"

“Oh, that’s very nice Potter. Thanks ever so.” he deadpans, and Potter snorts at him. Very dignified. Merlin, Draco needs to keep better company.

“And… then there’s the fact- you know, forget it. It’s silly anyway.”

“What?”

“-NEVERMIND!”

Draco jumps in his seat a little as Potter half yells at him. That was odd. Madam Pince gives him a warning glare. Like it's his fault Potter's insane.  
He seems a little pink, but Draco decides not to push for clarification. Who is he to question the behaviour patterns of Potter and his insane bird?

They resume writing their respective essays until the moon is high in the sky. Draco, has to admit, he's enjoying the company. Even if he hates defence. They finally leave when Pince begins shooting daggers at them. Just as they're about to walk the path back down to the great hall, he stops.

"Hey, know what's for d-" But he's cut off, as Potter steps very suddenly into his personal space.

"May I?"

What?

Draco's eyes are automatically drawn to Potter's mouth. His heart is beating rapidly in his chest. He follows Potter's eyes down to his Slytherin tie.

Oh. It looks fine.

Still Draco, fool that he is, gives a nod. He tries not have a heart attack as Potter leans down to adjust the knot slightly. His forehead bumps Draco's chin.  
He’s sure it’s a benign gesture, but Draco’s surprised by the intimacy of it. He tells himself to get his head out of the gutter. It proves unsuccessful.

"Better." Potter mumbles under his breath. Although he can't be sure what exactly is better because his brain has completely short-circuited. He thinks he may be dead. Yep, that's it.

When Potter finally leans back and smiles again, it's so brilliant and beautiful that Draco neglects to mention how his tie looks exactly the same. Instead they walk together in silence, and Draco thanks Merlin for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

* * *

 

The next few days pass quickly, in a blur of chaos. Personally, Draco's glad for it. This is the fifth Potter incident he's had to recover from in a very short period of time and he thinks he's rather reaching his limit. Granted, Potter has definitely resorted to, well...new tactics. Much dirtier tactics, if you ask Draco.  
Still, the effect is pretty much the same. Whether Draco is choking on cucumber sandwiches or having Potter fiddle with his tie; the fact is that he couldn't take his mind off of him if he tried. And he does try. A little. Sometimes.

Honestly, he not quite sure what to think of it all, and every interaction between them is undercut with the fear that Draco is somehow reading his expressions incorrectly.

If Potter were anyone else, he’d almost assume…

But it’s Potter, his mind helpfully supplies, and he drops the train of thought. There’s no point wallowing in fickle fantasy.  
As if the constant harassment by Mind Potter wasn't bad enough, he has to meet the actual Potter now that they're working on the article for _Salazar_ together. Merlin, Draco wonders how he got here from the relative peace he was in before.

It certainly hasn't been helping that Pansy, Blaise and the rest of them seem to think his new project with Harry Potter is hilarious. Like they're the gods of misfortune and Draco's their puppet on a string. Pansy and Millicent keep waggling their eyebrows at him whenever he and Potter are sat together. He wishes he’d never told them about his…infatuation, or at least that he’d hid it better. How embarrassing.  
But Blaise... Blaise is by far the worst. He thinks he may actually have gone insane from the shock of he and Potter getting along. Only that could explain his switching between acts of complete nonsense and plain megalomania. He keeps making veiled threats to start a new column on Gryffindor and Slytherin couples.  
For 'greater interhouse unity' he says.

"Come on Draco, Granger thinks it's a wonderful idea." Sure, he never says who he'd like to feature first, but Draco can see it in his shifty eyes. He knows that to punch him would be an admission. Would show that he knows exactly what Blaise is thinking and he's thinking it too. Damn. He's got Draco powerless, the bastard.

By far the strangest occurrences though, are when Potter's around. It had happened when Draco suggested they go to his common room to plan their article, and had met Blaise by the green plush in the corner. They had sat down, regardless.  
Bad idea.

Draco had neglected to ask what the thing he was holding was. It was hard to explain, for Draco had never seen anything like it. It was a large gold thing with a long tube attached to it which Draco had soon discovered was a mouth piece.  
He's not quite certain it's magical, but he doesn't understand how else it was making a noise. If it is, Draco's never seen it before at least. Personally, he thinks Blaise has been spending a little too much time with Granger. Or at least with Granger in Pansy's company. Recently, it's like they were separated at birth or something. He'd chosen not to voice this to Blaise.

When he and Potter had finally settled down to work, Potter had, rather innocently he's sure, reached over to brush a hair from Draco's face. It would have been a perfectly normal gesture, if Blaise had not then taken this opportunity to play what can only be described as the most porny tune Draco had ever heard in his life on the instrument of death.  
Potter was evidently on the same wavelength as Draco because he went positively beetroot red and quickly lowered his hand from Draco's cheek. He didn't think he could physically be more mortified. He'd tried to distract Blaise by inquiring just what he was playing at. Until Blaise had responded.

That was the worst of all.

Draco didn't ever want to hear the word ' _Sexyphone_ ' in the company of Harry Potter ever again. Merlin, he always knew Granger was a deviant. Thankfully, Pansy had rushed into the room and demanded that he "play the George Michael again!" Whatever that meant. Safe to say they had both left the common room.  
The library was safer for everyone.

Now here he was, down by the lake finally. Desperately attempting to repress his memories of the night previous with a mug of hot chocolate; and secretly hoping that karma comes at Blaise with all its might. And potentially a ton of bricks.

He'd finally shaken off Daphne, who had accosted him in the courtyard with fashion sketches for _Salazar_ ; and as much as Draco appreciated her efforts, he also had no bloody clue what funky chic was, and the good sense not to mention that snakeskin was kind of predictable. So he'd nodded absentmindedly and told her to go show Blaise. He'd no doubt be interested. Plus he owed him after last night.

He sat there for a while taking pictures on his camera and battling the strong wind. His bum was all wet from the grass, and it was getting steadily colder, but he didn't really mind. He'd been trying to study by idly flipping through his Charms textbook but it just wasn't happening. The wind kept blowing it shut, and secretly he was thankful because it gave him an excuse to think about Potter.

So far they'd gotten about three quarters of the way through the article and were going to finish it up tonight. He'd actually quite enjoyed writing with Potter in the library again last night. Despite the fact that he wasn't doing any actual investigating this time, Potter more than made up for it, with his humour and charm. He was surprisingly funny, and it was fascinating to hear the stories he'd collected over the years concerning the Marauders. So much of the past had been tinted with stories of pain, of the first War. It felt very uplifting and human to see the happiness that once was present.

Harry had even taken out a photo of his dad and his friends together, for Draco to see. It had been bittersweet, even though they were looking back on fond memories; to see them all there smiling up at them, waving like they hadn't a care in the world. There was a tightness about his face looking down at them that made Draco feel like perhaps he was intruding. Still, Potter had merely shaken his head imperceptibly, and smiled one of those brilliant smiles at him again.

It had made Draco think. About his own future, and whether or not he would be standing, smiling in the frame of a picture, waving at his own children. Whether he would be with anyone else in the image. It gave him a weird sort of courage that no matter what happened, he would have a memento. A moment of pure bliss captured forever. It also gave him an idea.

"Potter," He'd asked, as Potter carefully stowed the picture back into its album. "I know that you said you didn't want me to take your picture, but how about we take one together? I think I'd like to start an album as well. I'm not going to share it or anything."

"Er yeah. Okay," Potter had looked a little torn, and rather like he wanted to tease him for his sentimentality, but had ultimately said nothing as Draco had reached for the old muggle camera.

"Wait!" He placed a hand atop the camera. "Don't forget to say cheese."

"Er...What?"

"Muggle thing." He'd said as if that explained it, and stared at Draco expectantly.

"Cheese...?" Then he'd leaned over and pressed the button.

After a few seconds, the picture came out. Draco had grabbed it, then sighed. "Thanks Potter, I look like a troll."

"No, you don't, Malfoy. You're just fishing for compliments," Potter gave him a light shove with his elbow.

"Perhaps," He had said. He had been serious, but if that's what Potter wanted to believe then so be it. He gave the picture to Potter.

"Gemino," Potter had taken a copy of the duplicated image. "There we go."

Draco had considered the image for a little while. "You know, I think it looks a bit creepy actually. All frozen like that. It's like we're statues. Still images of nature look fine; still as peaceful, but this... I'm going to ask Granger to charm it for me. She'll love the challenge."

Potter had once again given him a look that seemed to suggest he had more to say. He'd simply nodded though, and tucked it into the same album, that he loved so much. Admittedly, Draco had been more than a little touched at that, but he'd simply blinked it away, and they'd carried on.

Now, Draco was thinking about it. He wonders if things will go back to normal after they finish the article tonight. Whilst Granger has firmly asserted herself into the goings on of _Salazar_ , he doubts Potter will do the same. He wants to see the picture they'd taken last night, but then remembers he'd lent it to Granger to charm. He thinks he'll definitely miss this; and he realises with a jolt that he was wrong before.  
After the war he'd certainly admired and obsessed over Potter, and long before then had grudging admitted that Potter was incredibly hot, despite the fact that he used to hate him. Or perhaps partly because of it. None of that had meant that he really liked Potter though, not truly liked him as a person. Now though, he was rather beginning to suspect that he did.

He stirs his hot chocolate miserably. Stupid Potter with his stupid good looks, and his stupid charm, and his ridiculous expressions, and his sentimentality, and his mad friends, and his horrible owl, and-

"Malfoy?" Draco jumps out of his own skin so much, he nearly falls into the lake. Luckily, it would seem fate is on his side today, and he steadies himself. Not before he drops his mug though.

"Christ, Potter! Look at my hot chocolate! It's in the lake..."

"Sorry...I... No, I'm totally not sorry, that was hilarious! I'll get you another drink though." Draco narrows his eyes and tries not to crack a smile.

"Glad as I am to provide hours of amusement for you, was there a point to your visit?"

"Hermione, wanted me to give this back to you. She charmed it." He glances at the two faces, now smiling up at him, as Potter's voice carries from behind him.  
"You're her new favourite person now, you know. I tried to engage her in conversation at breakfast and she told me to shut it." He sighs. "I suppose I should've learnt by now not to disturb her when she's trying to figure something out..."

"But she did it though! You should give her more credit. It's a difficult spell to perform,"

"Yeah, I know. I er, actually helped." Potter sits down next to him and takes the picture. He points down to his expression, and Draco thinks it looks a little different to how he remembers it.

"See, she was only able to charm the expressions as I'd described them. I'm not sure if it's an overall flaw in the spell, or if we'd interpreted it wrong, but either way it seems to defeat the object of it. I mean things like that are pretty subjective,"

Draco considers his own expression. Picture Draco looks decidedly less animated than he'd known he'd looked at the time. There's a hint of something captured in his eyes, and then he moves and it disintegrates rather jarringly. Now he almost looks disinterested. Picture Potter, on the other hand seems freer, maybe a little brighter. He likes that. Although it's so strange to see. It's not how he had read the situation at all. Maybe Potter’s just as bad at reading him as he is at reading Potter.

"Nice to know you think I look like that, Potter. I look like I'm sucking on a lemon..." He's maybe exaggerating a little, but that's his MO in life. He's not changing for Potter.

"Well... that's what I'm saying, it's all subjective. Anyway, I think you look nice. If you don't want it...then I'll k-"

"No, no. I want it." He strokes his thumb over the border and then moves it cover his own face. Much better. Though he doubts Picture Draco agrees. "We can always charm another one, anyway,"

"Oh! I forgot, Hermione wanted to ask everyone working on _Salazar_ to meet in the common room tonight."

Draco turns to him suspiciously, putting the photo back in his bag.

"Why?" He doesn't like the sound of this. If it involves Granger, it'll likely involve Pansy and Millicent too. He has definitely not forgotten how well their last meeting in company went. Especially if Blaise is there. To ruin everyone's day.

At this, Potter seems suddenly uncomfortable, "um. I think it's best you hear it from her. Pansy and Mil-"

"Of course. You know, if it involves those two, it has to be bad news. Granger's in with a bad lot."

"By that logic, so are you."

"Maybe so. But I tolerate you, Potter. Nothing more than that. I have a lot to gain from your reputation," He cracks a smile to show he's joking.

"You know that's not what I- Nevermind." Still he smiles back.

"So what's the topic," He tries again.

"An...Important one." Now he thinks Potter's just teasing him. He smacks him lightly with his book. At least it's useful for something.

"Hey!"

Draco smiles down at the water, and decides to let it go. He's sure it'll be fine if Potter's there. The thought seems to give him pause, it's weird how much seems to have changed in a few short months. Nevertheless, he likes it. He sips at his newly refilled hot chocolate with Potter beside him. They spend the next hour taking pictures of the grounds together. For the first time since the War, he feels truly happy.  
Adonis swoops down softly onto a large pebble by the water to join them, and this time Draco thinks he looks a little less hostile.

* * *

 

When six o' clock finally rolls around, Draco decides to head up to the Gryffindor common room. No doubt Granger would have based them all there. He doesn't resent her help at all, in fact they need all the coverage they can get, but he can't deny that a much younger Draco would have certainly had some qualms with his all Slytherin newspaper being taken over by bossy but well-meaning Gryffindors.  
Still, Draco's not the same person he was back then, and he can appreciate that compromising his vision slightly is the best way to help everyone rethink their attitudes towards his House. He doubts it was all that welcoming to non-Slytherins before.

Plus he gets to see Potter. Apparently sans his original moodiness. That's what pleases him the most out of all this. If he and Potter can get along, then there is hope for everyone. Unfortunately, it would seem that Granger and the others are thinking along the same lines as well. He's not sure he's keen of being made an example of in front of the whole school. Still, he sucks it up, and makes his way up the staircase to the portrait hole, entering rather haphazardly.  
He's not necessarily used to clambering through a small hole to enter his dorm, and he almost breaks his back. Merlin, it's no wonder Gryffindors have terrible posture.

When he enters the room he sees Potter sitting next to the fire. He must have used a silencing charm for he doesn't look up despite Draco's half crawl into the room like some kind of beast. Thank Merlin for small mercies! He's sitting with Adonis on his shoulder, flipping through the same photo album. Draco would've made his presence known then, if the bird hadn't squawked at him. Whatever it said, Draco was almost certain it wasn't nice.

Merlin, the thing is rude. Potter's head jolts up then. He cancels the charm quickly, and turns to him, almost dislocating Adonis from where he was sat.  
Serves him right, he thinks savagely.

"Hey."

Draco nods.  
"Hermione's just coming. She's uh...got a chalkboard with diagrams and everything so I think we're gonna be here a long while. Are we still set to finish the article tonight?"

"Of course."

"Here." Potter pats the pouffe next to him. Draco sits down with trepidation under Adonis' unwavering stare, carefully protecting his extremities from any beak related injuries.

He nods as Weasley enters through the portrait hole next, looking as if he'd literally rather be anywhere else. Still, he sits, subdued. They wait for Daphne, who's convinced Greg to come along, despite his lack of interest in their pursuit of journalism.

It doesn't take long for the rest of them to arrive. Draco notes with misery that, yes Blaise has decided to show, but he's accompanied by Theo at least. Theo it seems, is an incredibly good filter for Blaise arseholery ever since they started working on the advice columns.  
When Granger enters it's with a look so solemn that even a dementor would cower. Draco actually feels a chill travel through him. Next, Pans, Milly, and to his surprise, Longbottom, follow. They appear to be levitating a blackboard into the room from the girls dorm and Draco sighs inwardly and waits for the inevitable torture of Granger's three hour lecture to ensue.

* * *

 

"-Okay! Does anyone have any questions?"

Draco who has melted into the carpet by now, looks around vaguely. Weasley, it seems, has taken to a moment of solidarity with Goyle. They both seem to be glaring daggers around the circle, just daring anyone to raise their hand.  
Draco almost cries out of frustration when Blaise, who feeds on pure unadultered misery, winks at them all behind Granger's back, and his hand twitches where it rests on his knee. He evidently thinks better of it when Goyle cracks his knuckles dangerously.  
Well, at least there is some benefit to his being here.

Potter is drumming his fingers impatiently next to him. Draco sighs, very aware that they have to finish writing the article tonight as well or they'll miss the deadline. Granger looks on disappointed. Even Pansy and Millicent look worn out despite their enthusiasm.

To be fair to Granger, Draco thinks the choice of topic is a good one. She had suggested they choose a monthly theme for _Salazar_ now, and had suggested Opening Up After a War as their first. He supposes he’s not surprised that Potter hadn’t wanted to get into it with him before. Draco could see how painful the War had been for him especially, and he begins to wonder if Potter’s previous avoidance of _Salazar_ had been out of self-preservation and not malice.  
The theme was very fitting. In a huge way, that is what _Salazar_ had been for them these past few weeks. It was an outlet for some very personal truths, and in writing them, they had given many others to the opportunity to open their own minds and share their own thoughts and opinions. The freedom of _Salazar_ was so much healthier than the oppressive biased claims from The Prophet, and Draco was incredibly proud that he had actually contributed some good in the past few months.  
Even Mother seemed pleased with him in her letters. Though he thinks she's still puzzled at his motives.

Despite Granger's intensity, it had actually been a very productive discussion, and they had each been given the choice to write a piece detailing their own experiences, if they so desired. Draco suspected it was going to be a difficult issue to produce, as anything that heavily involved the War was. He thinks expressing his own emotions, or even just allowing himself to live in them is something that he has always struggled with. Especially now. He was surprised however, when Potter said that he agreed, and they shared something unspoken then that seemed to suggest they could lean on each other now. He hadn't shared that same sense of unity with anyone before, not even Pansy. It made his throat tighten a little.  
It was made even greater when Draco realised just how novel it was for a room full of Slytherins and Gryffindors to actually work together for good. Despite Blaise's teasing, he couldn't deny that interhouse unity really was at an all-time high. He knew that the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs would soon follow now. He'd already noticed less teasing in the corridors.

"Well... alright then. I suppose we're done."

Everyone leaps up then. He and Potter get up too, even though they're staying to finish off the article. Draco's leg has fallen asleep and he thinks Potter is in a similar position. He shakes it viciously and then stretches.

"So. You ready?"

"Yep." Potter nods back.

* * *

 

"Okay, Potter?"

"What? Oh, yeah."

"Good."

Despite the fact that it's almost half ten, no one has returned to the Gryffindor dormitory yet. He supposes they're still at dinner. He'd overheard Weasley announce a tournament of Wizard's chess to the others as they made their way downstairs so he supposes they're still playing.  
Draco doesn't mind. The fire is warm where they're sat together, nestled in plush beanbags. They've nearly finished the article now, and Draco's hand is starting to cramp. His stomach rumbles loudly, but he ignores it; the sense of accomplishment dulling any nerves or discomfort he might otherwise have.

Potter however looks a little troubled. Draco wonders if he is also a little sad to not have an excuse to meet together anymore, but he pushes it out of his mind. He doubts Potter cares really. Why would he?

"Hey Draco," He starts at the use of his first name. That's new.

"I've really enjoyed working on the article with you. Thanks for coming up with the idea. It means a lot to me, actually." He coughs. "I think I'm starting to realise how unpredictable everything really is. It was a last minute decision, you know, that caused my parents death. A decision that was made in good faith by my godfather. And after that they were just gone... It's like that photo we took, a moment of happiness before everything moves along. For better or for worse. It's the same with _Salazar_ ; you made the decision to change something, and now look where we are."

Potter gives a throaty laugh. "Sorry for being all, you know. I just think it's strange, and brilliant sometimes, but what I'm saying is... I don't think I'm going to let any more moments slip away from me now; not while I'm still here to enjoy them at least."

Draco considers this. Whilst he certainly agrees, he's not sure he's as brave as Potter. The irony that _Salazar_ 's monthly theme is opening up, and yet he's too cowardly to express his own feelings. What would be the point?

"You're right, certainly. But I'm not sure... I think there are times when taking chances like that can ruin things -if you're pretty certain that they would in fact- then..." Draco sighs. "I'm not as brave as you, Harry."

The name feels strange on his tongue, but it's tamer somehow and he likes how it sounds in his mouth.

Potter turns to look at him then. "Yes," He says simply, "Yes, you are." and reaches out a hand to wrap around Draco's.

His touch is warm like the fire that crackles in the heated silence that follows. Draco however, is frozen in place. Potter's eyes are so wide and so green in the near darkness, and his mouth is held in a crooked smile that Draco can tell is pure terror at his own bravado, and he suddenly realises. He reads it in his face, in all the times these past few months that he's stared at Harry Potter staring at him, but never really stopped to understand what he saw there. His hand is loose where it holds Draco's and he knows that he's giving him an out here. He knows now, that he and Potter are different, but they've been talking about the same things; and he understands what Longbottom had meant when he said they were similar.  
It's so terrifying, and so bold that Draco thinks he might run for a second, because it's one thing to hope for something when you know you'll never get it, but totally another to be a breath away, standing on the edge of a summit about to take the plunge.

He thinks he definitely would have run before he started writing for _Salazar_. Before he made the effort to embarrass himself in front of Potter, and chase after him shamelessly the next day, unafraid of his own shadow, of his own insecurities now. Bold enough to bare them to the whole world to see. Maybe he is braver than he thought, and maybe it's not too much to think that Potter might just maybe like someone like him. This thought makes him decisive and he adjusts his grip, lacing his fingers with Potter's.

Decades seem to pass, until Potter seems sure that Draco isn't running from this. He relaxes imperceptibly and his smile seems much more solid. Draco smiles back this time, and he wonders how many times he's been so busy staring at him that he's forgotten to show just how alive Harry Potter makes him feel in the lines and contours of his own face.

“You see. You make me braver.” He says, and leans forward. Draco closes his eyes because it's like staring at the sun, and despite it all he's still so scared of the emotions that must be written all over him. He can feel Potter's breath against his lips when he whispers-

"Can-can I kiss you?"

Draco nods gently, his head bumping against Potter's slightly. He feels heavy from the intimacy. Part of him wonders why Potter is even asking. Is he still so good at masking his own emotions, even now? But the largest part of him is so grateful because he feels like he's just dived into freezing cold water, and he needs time to adjust from the shock of it.

When Potter's lips brush against his it doesn't feel like anything he's ever felt before. Not even when they used to fight, and he used to get a kick out of the lust, the danger that would course through his body.  
No this is different. It's soft, and so unlike how he'd imagined it, but that's what makes it so wonderful. He's had enough danger, enough violence to last a lifetime and he knows Potter has too, but he's swiftly forgetting all that because Potter's lips are slightly chapped, and the photo of the both of them smiling from before is burning a hole in his pocket, and he's tempted to rip it up because it pales in comparison to the pure ecstasy of the moment now, that he never wants to leave.

Draco's quill hangs in the air on pause, but it falls to the floor along with his last shred of reserve when he feels Potter's arms wrap around him and pull him closer. He thinks he can hear Adonis softly hooting but he doesn't turn to look. If he didn’t know better he’d think it was with less vitriol that usual. After all, the owl did push them together. He did force them to talk, regardless of his intention. Maybe he’s not as evil as Draco thought.

Maybe.

Nonetheless, Adonis can wait because Harry Potter is kissing him, and it’s wonderful. It doesn't feel, as Draco had previously assumed, like he's on fire. It doesn't feel like his blood is singing in his veins, or like he's drunk on the feeling, or maddened by it.

Perhaps it will later. If they were ready for something like that. Now though, he simply feels warm and at home.

He feels the weight of his arms against him. Those same arms that fought a war, that cursed Draco terribly, that died to save the world, that held the frayed and creased picture of the Marauders and cried silently over it. Those same arms of a boy that loved his parents dearly, their absence reflected in the shade of his eyes. A boy. A person who's lived a million different universes and experiences and he's here now, holding Draco; his lips pressed against his own.

He feels safe. Something that can be hard to feel after what they've all seen.

It's more than enough.

When they finally part to find the whole of _Salazar_ staring at them open mouthed, Draco thinks he's also brave enough not to care one bit. Evidently, Potter thinks so too, because he simply bends his head into the crook of Draco's neck and smiles.

* * *

_Epilogue_

 

The evening air is cold where it whips away at Harry's face.

He can hear the music. The soft and muted voices where he sits in the courtyard outside of the Great Hall.

He's already in his tuxedo, even though he hates the thing, and his hair is stiff and strange from where he'd desperately attempted to subdue it with Sleekeazy's.

He yawns and stretches his arms up into the air with a grimace. His suit is a little too form fitting. Something he's still not used to after years of Dudley's baggy clothes. Daphne had said she liked it. She'd told him that Draco would think as much, with the sly wink she gave him when he'd asked for her help tonight.

Distantly, he can hear joyful yells and laughter. The soft violin that spills out of the room.

In spite of it all, he's terrified.

He's waiting for Draco. Whispering to himself that maybe he's read it wrong. Maybe he's in too deep. He's got no idea now, what he wants to do with his life. He looks up at the stars as if he could find an answer there, but ultimately he finds nothing.

The picture of the both of them; imperfectly perfect, it sits in his pocket. It is a comfort that he'll always have. Even if Draco leaves him. Even if they never see each other again after tonight.

For he has to say something. How can he not? Honestly is hard, but it's even harder when you're Harry Potter. He'd so much rather grit his teeth and pretend. Still there's something within him that lingers, it tells him that he can do this.

Draco had been dropping hints, and that's okay. He wants this too, he really does; but it's so hard for him to trust like this. To let go. Now, it's so hard to take his own advice. To take chances, when he's so overwhelmed by the reality. The newness of it all.

He just wants to be sure they're okay. That they're in it for the long term, and that someday soon they'll...but not yet, not when everything's already so busy.

He's so afraid to lose him, because truly, Draco Malfoy is the only constant he'll have left when they leave school. Sure he'll have Ron and Hermione, and the whole of _Salazar_ , but he knows it won't ever be the same.

All in all, it's not really the right time for any passionate trysts that Draco may or may not have planned for them, if Blaise is to be believed. Right now, he's got enough first time's ahead of him without introducing the romantic kind.

He knows it's irrational, but he's so damn scared to admit it. He feels weaker for the admission. Especially now he thinks he just might be in love. Love. It was such a funny feeling.

It had been like falling in his sleep. He hadn't realised how deep, until he'd woken up last week to discover a boggart rattling and thrashing in one of the empty classrooms. He'd felt the dementors breath that frosted the windows as soon as it'd seen him. Harry had hesitantly sent his patronus after it. Had discovered how bringing it to life felt...strange, until a full blown eagle had soared from the tip of his wand and subdued it in an instant.

His stag was gone.

He didn't need to think too hard about what that meant. After all, a part of him had known from the moment they'd kissed in the common room.

Evidently, Adonis had known well before that. He had wondered just why his owl seemed hell-bent on chasing his stag round and round in circles, as it flickered in and out of existence when he cast it. He’d assumed the owl had never seen a patronus before. Now he wonders if he’d known all along. Had known that he, Harry was changing, and had seen Draco in the mist. After all, Draco had said it himself. He may not be an animagus, but Harry was willing to bet that his patronus was that very same eagle.

Harry thinks wryly, that he should have known all along. There was no one that Adonis loved to irritate more than Draco Malfoy.

Now, here he was, several months later, and clinging to his last piece of bravado. All he really wanted was to go back to his dorm with Draco and chat; Draco always made him smile. Truthfully he'd saved him a little. Had made him kinder, and gentler.

Instead Harry was here. He hated the pretence of all of this. After everything he’d experienced at Hogwarts; with everything he’d become, a mere Leaving ball seemed false and performative. He'd only tolerated it because he quickly realised how much Draco loved fancy balls, or he might not have turned up at all. Perhaps that may have been rude. He knows he can be cold sometimes. He'd never thought that Draco Malfoy would be the one teaching him to be warm again, but it was true.

"Hey Harry! Where have you been? Wow. You look good."

Harry feels Draco hand slip into his, and turns to give him a soft smile.

"Gosh, you're freezing! Why is my date choosing to embed themselves in a block of ice, when they should be dancing with me?"

He feels the warmth of Draco's cloak around him suddenly and he pulls it closer. The silk is warm against his skin, and it smells just like him, like earth and something faintly sweet like chocolate.

Draco's arms fold around him too and he feels his head against his shoulder.

"Are you thinking again, Harry?"

"You've been sad recently." He says this quite plainly, as if it's just a fact. The lack of hostility or worse, pity, in his voice reminds him just how much he likes Draco. He knows he won't lie to him.

"It's pretty scary, right? Not knowing. That photo we took. I was talking about capturing a piece of joy, and yeah, the present is great but I think I feel... maybe a bit scared, I guess? For the future... I've never really liked the unknown. It's stupid, but I've never really felt at home anywhere besides Hogwarts."

He sighs. Draco waits for him to get the words out, and he's grateful.

"Hermione, Millicent and Pans want to continue _Salazar_. Ron has a huge family to return to, and all the others, well, they know what they want to do. So I suppose it's just me. Orphan Harry Potter, with nothing to return to. I don't think I realised how much the War has taken from me, you know?" He laughs, and cringes at how hollow it must sound.

Draco seems to be considering his words.

"Obviously this isn't going to fix everything but you have me. I haven't got a clue what I'm going to do after school. I started this year clueless, and I'm ending it much the same. Except, I'm ending it with you. That means more to me than any existential worries I may have. I know we'll be alright,"

The words are warm against his neck and Harry shivers when he replies,

"I don't think I'd have enjoyed this year half as much without you in it. Please don't think that I don't appreciate you. I do. I'm just...maybe I'm not being one hundred percent honest with you. I think... that we've been building up to...something more tonight. At least that's how I've been reading the situation, and I'm... maybe a little sad and a little lost at the moment, and I'd like it to be special... when I'm fully happy because I think you're amazing Draco and-

"Harry. Stop. Yes, I had planned something for us but it's truly okay if you're not ready. You don't need to apologise. I'm not going anywhere. I came out here to ask you if you wanted to leave early instead. I know you hate these things. We can just drink butterbeer in my dorm and play exploding snap, I don't much care what we do with our night as long as we spend it together."

"I'm sorry. I know how much you've been looking forward to this evening,"

"Don't be silly. Merlin knows they'll be other balls to attend."

Draco lets go of him and they go to walk inside, before he stops dead. "Wait. How did you know I was going to ask?"

"Blaise said-"

"Merlin! He's a fucking menace, Potter. If he's been pressuring yo-"

"No, he's just been...Blaise. Smug and patronising but ultimately harmless," Harry smiles, he thinks he'll even miss Blaise once they leave. He's certain Draco will too. Oddly, the thought warms him, and he offers a hand to him.

"One dance before we go? I know you want to. Despite my awful rhythm..."

Draco beams at him and suddenly everything isn't so scary.

They dance clumsily together until the rest of _Salazar_ greet them in the middle of the hall. Hermione, very pink from wine consumption, teaches everyone the Macarena, which Draco particularly enjoys. They swiftly make their exit after Draco moves onto his fifth cup of punch, and the others soon follow.

They dance three more times in Harry's dorm. Draco's toppling over, drunkenly snapping pictures of them all with Andromeda's camera. He thinks if he were asked to charm them to life this time, he'd get Draco's expression just right.

Harry is particularly pleased when Adonis flies down onto Draco’s knee, and looks at him with something akin to affection in his beady eyes. Draco’s shriek is even better. Well, they’re making progress at least.

Harry spends his last night in Gryffindor tower drunk off of his tits, and cautiously optimistic for a future that he never thought he'd see. He thinks maybe he can do anything if Draco's with him.

Maybe it’s not a perfect evening, but it’s good enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> As I chose a max rating teen prompt, I centred my story around many non-sexual forms of consent, such as kissing and hand-holding. I also wanted to look at the concept of non-verbal consent and the importance of expressing and accurately reading emotion through the scenes with Draco's camera, as both Draco and Harry become much better at reading the other as their relationship progresses. Finally, I decided to explore a scene where consent is denied, as well as touch on the theme of consent and boundaries in media, through The Prophet's harassment of the Slytherins.


End file.
